Calling

What does the phone ringing do to you? I remember when I used to love the sound of the phone ringing, hoping my mom would call out that it was for me. That was back when the phone hung on the kitchen wall and the blue curly cord would only allow me to go so far to seek the privacy I needed to discuss junior high crushes and other important information. It was a great day when that phone was traded in for a cordless phone! It was white phone with a long retractable silver antenna. The antenna eventually broke, but we could still go to just about any room downstairs and shut the door, then nobody would hear me talking about who he liked, and what she said, and why they did that! Even in college, I waited with baited breath to find out who the phone call was for. Anyone calling my dorm room and asking for me was inviting me into their presence. Either it was a phone call from someone far away like my mother or my best friend at Tulane. Or it was someone down the hall or across campus that wanted to spend time with me. Sometimes it was a phone call from a professor asking for my help, inviting me to join a group, or otherwise acknowledging a gift I might have to offer. I hadn't learned to dread the phone.

I remember the first bad news phone call I received. My mom was on the other end and asked if I had a few moments to talk, that I should sit down, was my roommate with me? This could only be bad news. My mind started spinning. It is amazing how many disaster scenarios the mind can conjure in the brief seconds between "we need to talk" and "here is what happened." A friend of my brother's had been killed in a car accident. We had gone to church together, I had chauffeured him around before he had gotten his driver's license. I cringe to admit I was relieved. Sad, of course, but this did not meet with the dread that overcame me and physically changed the rhythm of my heartbeat. I was quiet. "Are you okay?" "Yes, but I was afraid you were calling to tell me it was my brother or best friend." How did I know it would be such terrible news? "No, I wouldn't tell you that over the phone. I would come to you in person." I have had to deliver that news in person before. As a chaplain at school, as a pastor now, I have received the phone call from the distant relative and had to be the human presence to relay the bad news. And having paid my own phone bill now for nearly 20 years, I have received my fair share of bad news phone calls.

But I don't just assume that the phone is going to bring bad news. Truth be told, I assume the phone ringing is reminding me that I am needed somewhere. Someone is looking for me, I have forgotten something, I need to make space for somebody, can I help? Phones with curly cords have given way to smartphones that display the picture of the person that is calling me. Usually with pretty good accuracy, I can guess the nature of the call by the face that appears. And I've learned to screen. Yes, I will screen your call. I screen my mother, my husband, my best friend. So I will screen you. Don't take it personally, I've just learned that the phone is an invitation, not an obligation. And if it is really important you will leave a message or text me.

I wonder how this affects my attitude when God calls. He has never called my phone, just for the record. Or texted. I have received emails claiming to be from God...but do you really think God forwards? But he has called me. Theologians say He was calling me before I could hear him. "Prevenient grace," says Wesley. My mother says I was talking to God as a very little girl. I consciously remember the first call when I was eight. God called to me, said I needed Him, assured me I could call on him any time. I needed to be forgiven, I needed a best friend, a Father, a Savior. The call resonated somewhere in my eight year old heart and I accepted the call. He invited me to respond, and I willingly joined him. The next time I heard God call was when I was fourteen. He told me that there was a plan for my life that I had not imagined, a place to go that I would be shown if I had the faith to take the first step. Accepting God's call before had brought life, so I assumed this would too. God invited me to join Him where He was working and I accepted. Many other calls have come since. Some major: this is the man I want you to marry; this is the church I want you to serve; this is the school I want you to attend. Some personal: this is the way I want you to parent, this is the way I want you to forgive; this is the way I want you to serve. All were invitational. I could have screened everyone of them. Probably have screened more than I should.

The good news about God calling is that the line travels both ways. When other bad news phone calls arrived, I knew Who to call to lift me up, console me, comfort me, lead me through the valley. When good news phone calls arrived, I have known Who would celebrate with me without a shadow of jealousy or intimidation. And with every call, I have tried to rest on the promise that God is completely aware. Though I may be taken by surprise, knocked to the ground, speechless, God is not. His heart does not race like mine, wondering what the next word will bring. Rather He has waited patiently for me to end my phone call, and turn to Him. Sometimes the moment is simultaneous. Sometimes it takes days, or even weeks. What I am learning is that behind many of those phone calls, God is lurking. A new plan, a new friend, a new trial, a new grief, a new celebration. When I am able to ask with each phone call, "God, is that you," I find I am more able to accept the invitation to join the party.